The Shopkeeper (6 page)

“Mr. Crown, I am wiring a large draft to this bank, and I have no intention of discussing it in the open. May we adjourn to your office?”

It was now Crown’s turn to speak with disdain. “And what, may I ask, do you consider a large draft?”

I held for two measured beats and then said, “Two hundred thousand.” I enjoyed the surprised look on the tiny man’s face. When he did not respond, I added, “May we step into the privacy of your office?”

Without comment, Crown disappeared to the right and then reappeared through a door in the wooden wall. He circled around behind me, turned a lock on the front door, and drew the blinds. “Did anyone see you come into the bank?”

I shrugged. It served my purpose for him to worry. Crown gave a little wave with his left hand, and I followed him behind his pinewood fortification. His office was a rolltop desk tucked in a corner out of view of the customers on the other side of the barrier. The tiny man pulled a captain’s chair around for me and then did a little hop onto an oversized swivel chair.

“I’m open. This is a land of opportunity for those with money and wits.” I leaned forward and took on a conspiratorial tone. “What would you suggest?”

Crown leaned back and tried to appear thoughtful. “You’re a little late. Washburn and Sharp have gathered up all the profitable mines. Mines that sell stock are for suckers and normally played out. Bolton has grabbed the best ranch land in the state, and the sheriff won’t abide competition with his saloons or whorehouses.”

“Are you suggesting I take my money elsewhere?”

“No, no.” He hesitated, and I hoped his mind was moving along the path I wanted. “There’re always opportunities. This is a raw frontier, ready to be ravished by men such as yourself.”

I merely nodded. I did not deny I was a gunman, because I wanted Crown to assume I was as ruthless as the other infamous characters in town.

After a few quiet moments, Crown asked, “You’re staying at the Grand?”

“Of course.”

“You must see the potential if someone were put some money into that eyesore.” Now Crown used a conspiratorial tone. “I can make some quiet inquiries for you.”

“A hotel is not the scale I desire,” I said dismissively. I saw the disappointment in Crown’s eyes. Richard had warned me that Crown owned half the hotel in a partnership with the sheriff. Washburn divvied up little parcels of his domain so his minions remained beholden to his goodwill. Undoubtedly, the price Crown had in mind would put a grin on both his and the sheriff’s face. Besides, they probably assumed they would get it back as soon as someone shot me dead.

“What scale are you looking for?”

“Two hundred thousand dollars is a lot of money, especially out here. In the years to come, this state will boom, and I want to be positioned to profit. I don’t need to hurry.” I stood to leave. “Put your mind to it and see me at the Grand when you have a serious proposal.”

Crown raised his hand to delay my departure. “Mr. Dancy, I have the perfect way for you to profit from all the growth in this state.” He pointed the flat of his hand at the chair I had just occupied. “Please, sit, and I’ll explain.”

Chapter 11

I had just settled into my normal window seat at Mary’s when Jeff Sharp slid into the chair across from me. “What’re your plans?”

“And good day to you, Mr. Sharp.”

“Not for you, I’m afraid.” Sharp waved Mary over and held me in suspense while he ordered chops for his midday meal. When she had retreated, Sharp gave me a worried look. “Washburn hired Bill Sprague.”

“No. Probably a few days yet.” Sharp accepted a cup of coffee from Mary and then returned his attention to me. “Sprague’s in Carson City, where he lives lavishly between jobs.”

“You mean there’s that much work for him around here?”

Sharp looked irritated. “Meanin’ he’s engaged in a highly paid profession … at least at his level. Rumor has it he takes on only the biggest jobs an’ never fails.” Sharp’s face told me he suddenly realized what he had just said. Embarrassed, he added weakly, “Sorry. I’m about as subtle as an anvil.”

“I noticed.” I knew the situation was dangerous, but Sharp’s reminder of the stakes jangled my nerves. If I was going to win this battle, I needed to know what Washburn was doing, so I said, “Thanks for telling me straight out, Jeff. What else do you know?”

Sharp tested the temperature of his coffee with a shallow sip. It was scalding, so he took another tentative taste and set it down. “Washburn has never used Sprague before. I suspect he’s too expensive for Washburn’s miserly tastes. Besides, he had the Cutlers, who worked for a pittance.”

“I was told he had other dangerous men on his payroll.”

Sharp waved, dismissive. “Brutes, tough enough men, but not indiscriminate murderers. Just take it as a sign of his anger that he’s partin’ with a goodly amount of cash to see you dead.”

Sharp sipped at his coffee and found that it had cooled, so he gripped the cup with both hands and took a swallow. “I said he was an assassin. A bushwhacker that uses a rifle.” Sharp shook his head. “Steve, he hunts his prey from behind cover, an’ he’s seldom seen by his target … or anyone else, for that matter.”

No wonder Sharp looked worried. After a moment of reflection, I muttered, mostly to myself, “Washburn wanted someone who could kill from a distance.”

Sharp nodded. “Yep. He’s heard about your pistol work.” Sharp put his cup down. “Sprague’s a sneaky son of a bitch. Hardly anybody’ll know he’s around until the deed’s done.”

“Any suggestion?”

Sharp gave me a forlorn look. “None comes to mind.”

I noticed he did not advise me to run as before. He had probably come to the same conclusion as our little whist group. I did not blame him. Dooley and the others were friends, and I was just an unknown busybody who had stupidly barged in on a raging little war that was taking place in a remote piece of the frontier.

Sharp smoothed his eyebrow and then said, “Crown was also the mayor. Washburn owned him, but he was weak.” He seemed to think it over. “Getting rid of the mayor won’t dent Washburn’s control of this town. I don’t see how this helps.”

“It helps.”

“How?” Sharp said this last in a way that brooked no further temporizing.

“Everyone assumes that Washburn seduced Crown because he was the mayor, but Washburn wanted Crown because he owned the only bank within a hundred miles. Empires, even pilfered empires, require money.” I took a sip of my coffee. “By the way, according to my bank’s records, you owe me nine thousand dollars.”

Sharp recoiled. “My mines are worth tenfold that. Hell, lots more.”

“Of course. You run a conservative operation. But then again, you don’t aspire to rule everything this side of the Continental Divide.”

Sharp let an uncomfortable silence hang for a long time. I was starting to get concerned, because I needed Sharp, but he finally said in a matter-of-fact voice, “I’m good for my debts.”

“Of course. I’m not worried. I guess I was trying to impress you. I actually bought the bank to gain control of Washburn’s mortgages.”

Sharp sat back and chewed on that one. “Washburn stretched thin?”

I waved my coffee cup in Mary’s direction. “Thinner than one of Mary’s pancakes. All of Washburn’s local mines are mortgaged to the rafters.”

Sharp didn’t hesitate. “You can’t rely on the sheriff. Hire Pinkertons … and ya need to hurry.” He turned his coffee mug a full circle. “You know, don’t ya, that the damned circuit judge is on the Washburn payroll.”

“I know, but that only means he can be bought. I just need to establish a new price.” I remained quiet while Mary refreshed our cups and then asked, “Where can I get Pinkertons?”

“Denver.” Sharp again set his cup aside to let it cool. “The judge won’t come over to ya if he doesn’t think ya’ll be around for his next payday.”

“His rules tilt the table. Everything slides to his side.” I leaned forward. “How long before the Pinkertons can get here? I’m suddenly in a big hurry.”

“About five or six days by train and then by horse … if you wire them today.”

“Then I’d better get to it.” I left for the telegraph office as Mary brought over Sharp’s chops. He looked like he was going to enjoy the meal.

Chapter 12

In a few days, I had bought a bank, got rid of Washburn’s mayor, ordered Pinkertons by telegraph, and sent what I hoped would be an enticing telegram to the circuit judge. Progress, but Sprague worried me. How long before he got to town, and how could I avoid his sights once he arrived? I needed time to bring my plan to fruition, and that meant I needed a diversion—something to grab Washburn’s attention, other than me.

My plan was to break Washburn’s lock on the town one piece at a time and put him on the defensive in areas he wouldn’t anticipate. Battling business moguls in New York, I had learned to avoid the frontal assault and attack neglected portions of their empires. You had to be careful with this breed of men. When pricked, these carnivorous beasts would instinctively whirl at their tormentors and strike with furious resolve. You had to throw them off balance and make them hesitant, unsure, and disoriented. Next, if possible, you had to deny them their favorite weapons. Washburn’s favorite weapons were violence and the threat of violence. Because I had killed the Cutlers, he expected a straightforward contest of arms—his hired hands against my six-gun. I needed his attention elsewhere.

I unlocked the door of my new business and flipped up the shades to signal that the bank had reopened after my lunch break. Walking back to my desk, I started to hand-letter a “Bank Teller Needed” sign, when someone rapped on the wall of my cage.

I put the heel of my foot on my chair leg and leaned my swivel chair back until I could peer through the cage window. What I saw caused me to bolt out of the chair and bound toward the window.